


liar's paradox

by markohmark



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 07:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18425355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markohmark/pseuds/markohmark
Summary: "Why," Jeno says slowly, "does it ask how long we've beendating?"Jaemin shrugs. "It still pays a lot, and see?" he points at the requirements. "We meet all of them, technically."Participants must be over the age of 18, currently living together, and in a committed, monogamous romantic relationship.(Or: Jeno and Jaemin, broke college students and best friends, pretend to date in order to earn some money.)





	liar's paradox

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/63cbf2bf3c492f488f7fb9902baf4d30/tumblr_o34qaexZD71r5eua4o1_1280.jpg) prompt / thank u to my betas vivi & jas <3!! / nomin are so cute aren't they [a](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D1Ar3GUVYAAtL1d.jpg) [ha](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D1ZN_bdVAAEkmab.jpg) [ha](https://twitter.com/nominthings/status/1113430687304933376)  
> 

 

 

> **liar’s paradox** \- the statement of a liar that they are lying

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

It starts out, as do most things in Jeno Lee's life, as a means with which to obtain some money. In his defense, he's a college student, already shouldering half of his exorbitant tuition, and he has _needs_ —like, for example, the five dollar toothbrush holders he got last week from Muji.

("I'm never bringing you here again," Jaemin had said, eyeing the stack of minimalist knick-knacks Jeno had collected in horror.

"You're one to talk," Jeno replied. Jaemin was holding a 10-pack of gel pens and a bag of strawberry-flavored marshmallows.

"Why the _toothbrush holders_ —")

But he digresses. The most important thing is that, on Friday night, Jaemin says, "Do you wanna be in a Psych study with me? It'll pay 500 dollars over the semester."

And Jeno, in the middle of his Topology problem set, selectively hears the words _five hundred dollars_ and _with me_. It's an ongoing problem, really—whenever he ends up wondering why he made such a bad decision, the answer always is Jaemin Na.

"Yeah, sure," he says, already moving onto the next question on knot theory, mind focused on the assignment in front of him.

And _that's_ how Jeno sealed his demise. 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

Jeno squints down at the paper in front of him. _Make it make sense._ He takes his glasses off, wipes them carefully with the edge of his T-shirt, and—

"Why," Jeno says slowly, "does it ask how long we've been _dating_?"

Jaemin shrugs. "It still pays a lot, and see?" he points at the requirements. "We meet all of them, technically."

_Participants must be over the age of 18, currently living together, and in a committed, monogamous romantic relationship._

"Committed, monogamous..." Jeno reads aloud. His hands are sweating all of a sudden; he wipes them on his jeans.

Jaemin leans in closer. "Aren't you _committed_ to our friendship, Jeno?" he asks, eyelashes fluttering. As with any time Jaemin acts cutesy, Jeno battles between the warring emotions of affection and _cringe_.

Jeno nudges him away. "Stop coming so close." _Please, for my sanity_ , Jeno thinks. Jaemin's wearing a casual white button-down, and of course, because he's Jaemin, he has the shirt unbuttoned to show his collarbones.

Jaemin's expression quickly turns serious, smile morphing into a tight-lipped line. "It's okay if you don't wanna do it," he says. "I just thought it'd be an easy way to make money, you know? And with our eating habits, it just makes sense—"

"No, yeah, I'm fine with it," Jeno says quickly. "No one else will know, right?" He takes a quick look around the building. At their school, the humanities departments are sequestered into brownstones that the STEM buildings easily dwarf.

There's a desk for registration—the study seems to be run by graduate students if Jeno can judge by their weariness—and no one that he recognizes. In theory, this can work. Jeno only knows one person who studies Psychology, anyway.

Jaemin nods. "We just need to come in biweekly for... psychology tests, I don't know? And it'll be fine."

"Okay." Jeno musters up his resolve and grabs Jaemin's hand. "Let's do this, then."

And, for the most part, it _is_ fine. Jeno lets Jaemin do most of the talking when the graduate students ask preliminary questions.

Jaemin's good at being charming. He keeps his left hand on Jeno's knee, their thighs brushing together, and the touch feels so casually intimate, more natural than it should be.

"Yeah, Jeno and I have known each other for six years? Maybe since middle school, I think," Jaemin says.

"The summer before freshman year," Jeno adds. He remembers that summer so vividly. They conquered every inch of suburban pavement with their bikes and retreated to the cool safety of Jaemin's home when it got too hot out.

The interviewer raises her eyebrows. "And you two are both undergrads?"

"Yes," Jaemin says. “We’re in our second year.”

"That is all we have to ask for today," the interviewer says, getting up to usher them out the door. "Thank you for your time."

Jeno heaves a sigh of relief as soon as the door slams shut behind them. "Oh my _god_."

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Jaemin asks. He grabs Jeno's hand again, holding it to his chest. "Aren't I the best boyfriend _ever_ —" he cuts off, smile falling.

"Jaemin! I didn't expect to see you here," Johnny says. He’s looking at the way Jaemin's gripping onto Jeno’s hand, and in that moment Jeno _knows_ he's screwed.

Here's the thing: Johnny had been the TA for Jaemin's Intro to Psych class. At the same time, Johnny’s also best friends with Mark Lee's cousin, dating Jeno's dance team captain, and acquaintances with half of Jaemin's friends through the extended connections he has from ZBT.

"Yeah," Jaemin says, letting go of Jeno's hand. "We were just here for, um—"

"Romantic Couples Study?" Johnny asks, reading off the sign on the door behind them.

"We're not dat—" Jeno begins. Jaemin elbows him in the ribs.

"Yes," Jaemin says, smile tight. "But, uh, we need to go now. Nice seeing you!" With that, he drags Jeno away.

Jeno rounds on him as soon as they're out of earshot. "Why'd you _say_ that—"

"One of the supervisors was literally looking at us," Jaemin says. He rubs his eyes. "Did you wanna be found out? Besides, Johnny's friends with everyone within the Psych department. If he found out, we'd be ousted from the study like _that_." He snaps his fingers to emphasize the point.

"But—" Jeno considers the situation. Does he really want to do this for the money?

"If you think it isn't worth it, we can stop," Jaemin says, serious. They’ve made it to the door, and he reaches out to push it open.

Jeno stops him by grabbing his wrist. “You shouldn’t step outside like this, Jaemin,” he scolds weakly, reaching out to fasten the top buttons on Jaemin’s shirt.

“Are you my mom?” Jaemin teases, but he stays still to let Jeno button up his shirt.

"It's worth it," Jeno adds, staring at the white cloth between his fingers. "We can just pretend to break up at the end of the semester—after the study—and say we want to be friends instead, right?"

An undecipherable look passes over Jaemin's face when Jeno says _break up_ , but before Jeno can decipher it, he wipes it away. "It'll be fine," he says, soothing. He reaches out for Jeno's shoulder, squeezing it underneath his warm palm. "This is gonna be  _easy_ money."

They step outside. Even in the weak winter sunlight, Jaemin’s profile seems to glow. Jeno hates— _loves_ —it.

 

ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ  

 

 **From: Maybe Donghyuck**  
um exCUSE ME JENO LEE??!  
when did you and jaemin become a thing??! wtf???  
the fact that i had to find this out from someone who isnt my fuckin best friend huh!!

Jeno sighs as he sees the notifications pop up at the top of his screen. Usually, he spends his Pomodoro breaks zoning out into space or scrolling through cat pictures on Pinterest. The latest text from Donghyuck provides a brilliant contrast to the soft whiskers on his screen:

 **From: Maybe Donghyuck**  
!?! renjun knew before me huh… i see how it B…

Jaemin leans over. “Are you actually getting _notifications_ for once?” he asks, whispering loudly. The librarian nearby gives them a wary glare.

Jeno’s such a terrible texter that no one really bothers to message him for anything. His most frequently opened apps, according to his weekly Screen Time report, are 1) Focus Keeper ( _yikes_ ), 2) Venmo ( _thank you, Jaemin_ ), and 3) Uber Eats ( _again_ _thank you, Jaemin_ ).

“Donghyuck’s freaking _out_ ,” Jeno says, handing his phone over to Jaemin. “Do you see this?”

Jaemin scrolls through the notifications, wincing. “Oh, _Donghyuck_.” Then, because he’s Jaemin, he scrolls up some more. “Wow, can’t believe you ignored my very important messages yesterday.”

“That’s not the point,” Jeno says, rolling his eyes. Jaemin had been texting him furiously about some random anime—he refuses to remember the name of it because, contrary to popular belief, he’s _not_ a weeb—and Jeno had stared at the spam of exclamation points and heart emojis longer than he should have before going to bed last night.

Jaemin bites on his bottom lip as he thinks, and Jeno has to tear his eyes away from the sight. Yeah, he’s got it bad.

“Maybe we should tell them,” Jaemin says. “They’re coming in like, um—” He checks the time on his phone. “Soon?”

“Donghyuck texted you too?”

Jaemin grins. “If you don’t respond within five minutes, he always texts—”

“—you instead, yeah, whatever,” Jeno finishes for him, flicking the side of Jaemin’s cheek gently. “Don’t gloat too much.” He’s already heard the rest of it before: _Jeno, why am I the only saved contact in your phone beside your mom? Jeno, why do you always want me to make you fried rice? Jeno..._

“I wasn’t _gloating_ —” Jaemin starts before Donghyuck and Renjun show up at their table.

“So, spill,” Donghyuck announces, dropping his backpack onto the table and sitting down. It makes a loud _thud_ that attracts another glare from the librarian.

“Yeah,” Renjun adds, sliding into a seat next to him. “I had to hear from _Kunhang_ , who heard from Ten who heard from—”

“Johnny?” Jaemin asks. “Damn, how many degrees of separation for you?” He nods at Donghyuck.

“Johnny told Jaehyun, and he told Mark—well, _duh_ —and I had to hear it from _Yerim_ ,” Donghyuck recounts, sounding progressively more horrified as he thinks about it. “Yerim Kim knew before me. Do you realize how sad that is?”

Jeno rests his head on the table, closing his eyes. It’s been four hours, and it’s already spread this far. _Four hours_. Knowing Jaehyun, he probably told Doyoung too, which is kind of like telling his _mom_.

Jaemin rests a hand on his back, right below his neck, and rubs gently.

“Okay, but it’s pretty cute,” Renjun is saying. “I hate to admit it—”

“No, you were literally more excited than me when Kunhang told you,” Donghyuck interrupts. “He’s a softie. He believes in _love_.”

“Of course I was excited, I won the bet—”

Jaemin’s hand freezes. Jeno looks up, blinking blearily as he adjusts to the light.

“Bet?” Jaemin asks. His left hand, the one that had been petting Jeno, clenches into a fist.

“What’d you guys bet on?” Jeno asks, feeling faint.

“When you’d get together,” Donghyuck says. He keeps looking between the two of them as if surprised at _their_ surprise. “I said end of sophomore year, he said after winter break.”

“Actually,” Jaemin begins, “we’re not—”

Jeno reaches over and squeezes Jaemin’s hand. “We weren’t sure how to tell you guys,” Jeno says, talking over Jaemin. “Because it’s kind of awkward?”

Jaemin gives him an undecipherable look before weaving their fingers together. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Otherwise, you’d be the first to know.”

“Johnny kind of found out by accident,” Jeno adds. “So don’t feel bad?”

Donghyuck softens. “Of course we don’t feel _bad_ ,” he says, reaching out to pat Jeno’s hand where it rests on top of Jaemin’s. “It wasn’t that surprising, anyway.”

They don’t get that much work done while Donghyuck and Renjun are around, but it isn’t long before they have to go practice with their acapella group.

“Come _on_ , Kun already had my ass last time when we walked in late with Gongcha, let’s go,” Renjun says.

“We’ll talk later,” Donghyuck says, his last words before being dragged off by Renjun. Whether that’s directed towards him or Jaemin, Jeno has no idea.

Jaemin lets go of Jeno’s hand as soon as they’re out of eyesight.

“Why didn’t you wanna tell them?” Jaemin asks. He’s staring down at his hands as if he’s never seen them before.

Jeno shifts uncomfortably. “Did you see how _happy_ they were?” he asks. “It was—”

“They were relieved, more like,” Jaemin says. He sounds casual, too casual. His face and body don't betray anything, but his voice unlocks everything else.

“Maybe they were,” Jeno says carefully. Jaemin, out of all of them, has the worst track-record of… _irresponsible_ behavior. It had been terrible during high school, a little better after pledging into one of the more ‘responsible’ frats on campus, and improved a lot once he and Jeno started rooming together. Now Jaemin limits his partying to three times a semester because that’s the maximum amount of times Jeno will go out to get drunk with him.

Not that they ever end up back at their apartment at the same time. Jaemin always stumbles in the morning after with rumpled clothes and disheveled hair. And Jeno, late waking up from a hangover, always nurses his cup of tea and wonders why he chose to inflict this situation upon himself.

“Whatever,” Jaemin says. “Let’s stay for another hour, then grab dinner?” And with that, he plugs his earphones in and starts working again.

Jeno opens up Focus Keeper, ready to start his timer again. He looks over at Jaemin as he presses ‘start’. Jaemin doesn’t use Pomodoros. He doesn’t need to, not when he already can concentrate with a single-minded intensity that beats the directionality of a laser. It’s yet another thing that Jeno will always hold close to his chest. When Jeno was younger and less mature, he'd been jealous of it; there were times when he had been too fixated on getting into a good college to think much past _grades_ and _competition_. He, too, wanted to be able to have _fun_ on the weekends and saunter into school the next day, knowing he'd ace the BC Calc test, anyway.

Looking back at his past self is like watching a frightened, cornered animal. Jeno had only behaved that way because he thought there was no other way out. And in the throes of senior sliding, during his last year of high school with his future bright beyond him, Jeno had finally realized that he liked Jaemin. It's hard to think about, hard to not think that there's some lost time somewhere. 

("Am I a bad person?" Jeno asked, rolling over in his bed to face Jaemin. This was freshman year of college, and the two of them lived together in the same dorm room, then.

"What are you talking about?" Jaemin replied, scoffing. "That makes no sense."

"I'm talking about high school," Jeno said. "The things I did—the things I _thought—_ I'm so glad I'm past that, now."

He pulled the covers up to his chin, hoping it would give him some modicum of comfort. Usually, Jaemin's presence was all he needed to feel at ease. But this had felt vulnerable, unsafe. It left him off-kilter. Like returning home after months, the way he had done over winter break, and discovering that nothing in his house was in the same place anymore. 

Jaemin was silent for a moment. "We were all stupid in high school," he said. "It's... we're older now, right? We just can't make the same damn mistakes."

"Right," Jeno replied, mind buzzing with all the things he never wanted to repeat.)

But, if there's any way that Jeno feels like he's making up for all the time that's slipped past him, it's by spending time with Jaemin. 

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t find out sooner,” Jeno says. He takes a sip of his chai latte, then winces; it’s too hot.

Doyoung pauses in the middle of adding sugar to his drink. The contents of the packet spill out across his fingers.

“When did everyone else learn about your… relationship?” Doyoung asks. His eyes flit down to his fingers, covered in sweetener, before focusing back on Jeno.

“Saturday,” Jeno says. It’s already Tuesday afternoon.

Doyoung winces as he brushes the sugar off of his hands. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Jeno echoes. "Are you and Jaehyun fighting again, or something?" He’s never really bothered to keep track of their on-again, off-again relationship status.

“That’s beside the point,” Doyoung replies briskly, taking measured sips of his coffee.

“And what _is_ the point?” Jeno asks. He crosses his legs underneath the table, then uncrosses them, fidgeting. Doyoung’s the one person who has known Jeno the longest—and if anyone would figure it out, it’s him.

“Look, I’m just surprised, is all,” Doyoung says. He keeps staring intently at Jeno’s face as if hoping it’ll reveal something that his words do not.

“Surprised?”

“Yes.” Doyoung takes another sip. “When I texted you, I expected your response to be—well, a lot more enthusiastic. For someone who’s dating the guy they’ve been pining after—”

“ _Hey_ ,” Jeno interrupts, blushing.

“—pining after for years,” Doyoung continues, “You’d expect more excitement.”

 _Shit_ , that’s right. Maybe this fake-dating thing is a little harder than Jeno expected.

Doyoung pauses. “Jeno, are you happy with dating Jaemin? Otherwise…”

“Otherwise, what?” He knows fully well what Doyoung means—he’s never had a good opinion of Jaemin, not since the first time Jeno had called him at two in the morning, teary and wide-eyed with panic that Jaemin had left a frat party without him.

“You’re not obligated to do anything, even if you have a crush on him,” Doyoung says.

Jeno sighs. “You can’t just KonMari my _life_ ,” he says. “But yes, he sparks joy or whatever the hell it is you’re asking.”

Doyoung sighs. “Then that’s enough,” he says. “I’m going to take your word for it, alright? I have to go now.”

“Alright,” Jeno sighs. He has the sinking feeling that nothing really got accomplished during this semblance of a coffee break.

“But,” Doyoung adds as he gets up to leave, “I’m just saying. It seems… odd.” he shakes his head, trails off, and walks away.

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

Wednesday’s are both the bane of Jeno’s existence and the highlight of his week. It’s the day of the only class he shares with Jaemin—Literature and Existentialism—but it’s a morning class, and most weeks are spent scrambling to make it to the lecture on time.

“Can you make toast for me, _please_?” Jaemin asks, just from stepping out of the shower. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, shirtless, rubbing a towel through his hair frantically.

Jeno averts his eyes. Jaemin’s toned and infuriatingly handsome and it is too goddamn early in the morning for _this_.

“Why do you shower in the _mornings_?” Jeno asks, already placing two slices into the toaster oven. He’s not sure whether he’s asking for his own sake or out of genuine curiosity. “Get out of the kitchen, you’re dripping onto the tiles.”

This morning, Jeno slides into his seat at exactly 8:59 am and Jaemin plops down beside him, hood over his head so that it covers his eyes.

Renjun rolls his eyes when he looks over at the two of them. “Will you guys ever make it to lecture on time?”

Jeno sighs as he rummages through his backpack, dragging out his laptop. “Probably not.”

Donghyuck, as usual, shows up at 9:00 am on the dot. Renjun flicks his forehead gently, murmuring something about how all of them are always _late_. Another reason why Jeno loves this class: somehow, the four of them, in completely separate majors, ended up together just to fulfill their damn humanities requirement.

Jeno shares a look with Jaemin, and he grins back.

It’s hard to pay attention to the professor with Jaemin next to him, but he’s used to it from their years of zoning out in AP sciences together. Jaemin never really takes notes for this class, as lenient as it is, and as a result, spends most of the lecture fidgeting around instead. It’s hard to believe that this is the same guy who spends hours upon hours of his time focusing on his comp sci course load.

Jeno has long learned to never underestimate the duality of an individual. Case in point: at 8:23 am, Jaemin leans over and types _can i have a some of ur coffee??_ into the body of Jeno’s notes document. When Jeno turns to look at him, he bats his eyelashes and pouts.

Jeno reaches over to flick Jaemin's nose, rolling his eyes, then silently hands the coffee over. _U didnt need to ask_ , he types underneath Jaemin’s message.

Jaemin leans over, pressing his mouth directly against Jeno's ear. “But I wanted to,” he says, low and quiet. It sends a shiver down Jeno’s spine.

He nudges Jaemin away, pulse racing. “Shh, I need to focus.” As he turns back to his laptop, he notices Donghyuck watching the two of them. Donghyuck shrugs then looks back down at his notes.

“Huh,” Donghyuck says, after the lecture when Jaemin and Renjun have already left for their Algorithms class.

Jeno shoves his laptop back into his backpack. “What d’you mean, _huh_?” He imitates Donghyuck’s tone, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. They start walking up rows to exit the lecture hall.

“It’s just,” Donghyuck replies, “you guys seem the same as you were before? Like when you were just friends, I mean.”

Jeno nearly trips on the step in front of him. “Um—” he pauses, gripping onto the side of the railing for support. “We’re still adjusting, to, uh—our relationship?”

“I mean,” Donghyuck says, “you two always act like you’re married, anyway.”

Jeno rolls his eyes. “We do not—”

“You do,” Donghyuck insists. They’re heading across the lobby of the HASS building, ready to step outside. He takes on a high-pitched mockery of Jeno’s voice: “ _Jaemin will make me fried rice on Friday. I can’t believe Jaemin owes me 15 dollars on Venmo, again. Jaemin_ —”

“Donghyuck—” Jeno cuts himself off. _It seems… odd,_ Doyoung had said yesterday before walking away. He needs to act in the way someone who’s actually dating Jaemin Na would, not like his best friend who’s been battling with these _feelings_ for the past two years.

“I guess we do,” he admits. “Act, um,” he hesitates over the word, “married.”

Donghyuck gives Jeno an odd look. “Are you alright?” he asks. “You seem a bit—off, I don’t know.”

“Just adjusting to everything,” Jeno says, as vague as he can possibly make it.

Donghyuck looks around furtively, then leans in to whisper in Jeno’s ear. “Then, if we’re talking about your relationship… Is Jaemin good at sex—”

“Oh my _god_.” Jeno turns around, screwing his eyes shut and covering his ears. “I can’t hear you. Nope.” He can’t do this for a whole semester. This is _impossible_.

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

“Guess who I ran into today,” Jaemin announces, stepping into his room. Jeno’s in the middle of his nighttime routine, which consists of 1) brushing his teeth, 2) disabling the website blockers on his laptop to play surviv.io, and 3) trying to sleep after he heart-reacts the third cat video to show up on his Facebook feed.

“Who?” Jeno asks, fingers moving fast across the keyboard.

Jaemin comes closer, sitting on the foot of the bed. “Is that my mouse?” he asks, disbelieving.

“Um.” Jeno shoots at the sniper on the corner of his screen. “I’ll give it back after this round finishes?”

“Leave it. I’ll get the mouse tomorrow morning.” Jaemin sighs, then stretches his arms out so that they brush against Jeno’s shins underneath the blanket.

“So who’d you meet?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin muffles a yawn. “Doyoung, actually.”

Jeno dies within the game. “ _Doyoung_?”

Doyoung’s a math major, like Jeno. There’s really no reason for him to cross paths with Jaemin, especially since he’s a pure math major who would never deign to study computer science—Doyoung had called it the major _meant for sheep who did not think apart from the herd—_ or something.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Jaemin says, staring up at the ceiling.

“What did he say?” Jeno asks, closing his laptop to look over at Jaemin.

“What do you think?” Jaemin makes a half-aborted sound in his throat that sounds like a scream. “Doyoung, Ten, Jaehyun, even Mark…” he counts them off with his fingers. “They all talked to me this week.”

“About our relationship?” Jeno leans out from the bed to put his laptop and mouse away, then settles back into his sheets.

“About _you_ , more like.” Jaemin laughs emptily. He hasn’t stopped staring at the ceiling above. “Everyone somehow has the idea that _I_ could break your heart.”

Jeno doesn’t reply for a couple of moments, heart stuttering in his chest. In some ways, he has already broken Jaemin’s heart several times over. In others, Jaemin is the reason why Jeno feels whole and _happy_. It’s a mess of contradictions stirring inside of his chest. In the same way, Jeno has never been anything besides indecisive. 

“Everyone’s just… really protective, I guess,” Jeno says. He isn’t sure if _he’s_ the one who needs protecting. Jaemin turns onto his side to face him, eyes intense in the dimness of the room.

“Do you think I can be a good boyfriend?” Jaemin asks.

Jeno hesitates. “Do you _want_ to be?” he counters, unsure. “From their perspective, it’s like—”

“Jaemin Na’s just interested in partying, not relationships?” Jaemin sighs.

“It’s not that harsh of a judgement—”

“They don’t _get_ it. It’s not that I don’t want to be in a relationship, it’s just that I’m waiting for the right person.” _The right person, huh?_ Sometimes he’s surprised by the random fits of idealism Jaemin has.

Jaemin’s still looking at him intently, in that way that makes Jeno feel like he’s being observed under an electron microscope.

“Well,” Jeno says weakly, “that’s fine.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I think,” Jeno hesitates. It’s hard to get the words out. “I think you’d be a good boyfriend, yeah.”

Of course, he thinks that—Jaemin can be caring when others aren’t, kind in the most spontaneous of ways. It leads Jeno to appreciate the smaller things in life.

Jaemin smiles at that. “I’m glad at least one person has faith in me,” he says.

“Yeah.” Jeno shrugs, heart racing. “But—today, Donghyuck said that we seemed the same as before.”

“Really?” Jaemin frowns. “I literally held your hand for half of the lecture.”

“Maybe he couldn’t see?” Jeno suggests. Honestly, he himself hadn’t noticed Jaemin interlocking their fingers together during lecture until Jaemin had decided to let go.

“Maybe.” Jaemin turns back to stare at the ceiling again. “I think I have a way to make things seem a _lot_ more convincing.”

“How?” Jeno asks, curious.

“Let’s see if I can pull it off.” With that, Jaemin sits up, stretching his arms out as he yawns. “Alright, I’m gonna sleep, okay?”

“Good night.” Jeno burrows into his covers so that only his forehead sticks out. “Can you turn the light off before you leave?”

Jaemin pauses then comes back towards the bed. “Yeah, of course.” He strokes the top of Jeno’s head gently, a light touch that feels more dream-like than anything else, then reaches behind him to turn off the lamplight.

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

Fridays are always hell and a half for Jeno. He has another morning class, this one pretty damn major-specific—Algebraic Topology, not that anyone’s really wondering—and none of his friends are in it. Afterwards he has a three-hour tiring, albeit fulfilling, practice with the Asian Dance Team. Sure, he’s kind of acquaintances with Hyunjin Kim, but ninety-percent of Jeno’s interactions with her have involved Heejin trying to introduce each other and Jeno awkwardly nodding along.

He blames this entirely on Jaemin—of course, he had to make out with Hyunjin at a ZBT party, or something, and now everything’s awkward—but it’s Topology, and Jeno _likes_ being a math major, so he deals with it.

Jeno’s always extra careful to be quiet on these mornings. Jaemin’s a pretty light sleeper, and on mornings like this he prefers to wake up at around lunchtime—

“Hey,” Jaemin says, standing in the middle of the kitchen with a mug. He takes a sip, then makes a face. “Damn, I hate tea.”

“What?” Jeno asks, blinking rapidly. “Why’re you awake?” It’s too early to be confronted with the sight of Jaemin out of his natural habitat and timezone.

Jaemin grimaces, continuing to take small sips of the drink. “Want some breakfast?” he asks. “I made scrambled eggs the way you like.”

“ _Why_ are you awake?” Jeno repeats blankly.

“What, can’t bear to see my pretty face so early in the morning?” Jaemin pushes the plate of eggs over. “Eat." He sighs. "I have to work on my Systems problem set,” he adds. “I wanna get a lot done before the weekend.”

Jeno freezes mid-bite. “Are you planning to—“

“No,” Jaemin says, quickly catching onto what he’s implying. “Not partying, I’m just—trying to be more productive.”

Jeno raises his eyebrows. “Sounds fake, but okay.” There’s probably—scratch that, _definitely_ —an ulterior motive around there somewhere, but it’s far too early for him to contemplate the inner workings of Jaemin’s mind.

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

“ _Jeno_ ,” Jaemin whines. They’re sitting on the couch together: Jeno, with his laptop, trying to work, and Jaemin, with nothing, trying his best to bother the hell out of him. “Let’s do something.”

So that’s why Jaemin had been so insistent on being productive earlier that morning.

Jeno sighs, eyes still focused on the screen in front of him. Technically, this problem set isn’t due until Sunday, but writing things in LaTeX is _annoying_ and Jeno likes to take his time typing his solutions up.

Jaemin leans closer. “Are you even getting anything done?” he wonders. “You type so damn _slow_.”

Yes, Jeno’s a pecker. Yes, Jaemin Na, comp sci major with a typing speed of 150 words per minute, never lets him hear the damn end of it.

Jeno rolls his eyes. “I can’t get anything done with you around,” he says. When Jaemin leans closer, he doesn’t push him away.

Jeno sighs. “How is that you can only study at the library, and nowhere else?” he asks.

Jaemin laughs quietly, leaning back so that he’s no longer completely in Jeno’s personal space.

“It’s a trigger-action plan, I don’t know,” Jaemin says. “I just associate the library with studying and home with having fun and this apartment—” he breaks off, swallowing loudly.

Jeno looks away from his homework. “This apartment?”

“With you, I guess.” Jaemin shifts his legs so that his feet nudge Jeno’s. “Psychological bias?”  
“Sometimes I wish you never took Intro to Psych,” Jeno says, finally. He’s not sure how to respond. “You keep using it to justify—everything.”

Jaemin leans close again. “Oh really?” he says, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah, really,” Jeno replies, turning to face him. “Fine, what do you want to do?”

Jaemin shrugs. “Shouldn’t we do something couple-y?” he asks.

“Why?”

“Well, you mentioned Donghyuck not believing it, and stuff… if we go on a date and post a picture or something, won’t it convince them?”

Jeno frowns. “That seems like a lot of work—”

“Besides, I want to practice,” Jaemin blurts out. He closes his eyes. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to say anything.”

“Practice?”

Jaemin shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“Practice?” Jeno thinks about it for a couple of moments, before his eyes widen in realization. “Is this about being a good boyfriend?”

It’s weird to remember it—it feels so long ago—but before Jaemin started his trend of one-night stands, he dated a couple of people in high school. Two girls, one boy; all of them dumped Jaemin in a matter of days. Jeno never thought much of it, still doesn’t think high school relationships amount to anything, really, and Jaemin always seemed fine after the breakup, after rejection. But—

Jaemin shifts away. His calves are still tangled between Jeno’s legs.

Jeno leans closer. “Jaemin,” he says.

“What?” Jaemin asks, almost defensive.

Jeno hesitates, then reaches out. “Let’s do it. It sounds like a good idea.”

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

It feels weird to go on a date with Jaemin. Not a bad weird, just—if Jeno thinks about the situation long enough, about how he’s managed to end up here, in a movie hall watching _How to Train Your Dragon 3_ , nothing really adds up.

Jeno’s a math major; he likes the chain of reasoning in a proof, the way every step follows the next logically. But this—Jaemin putting his arm around him halfway through the movie, Jaemin turning to see his reaction after every joke, Jaemin’s smile, so bright in the dark theater—

This is something that defies logic altogether. It reminds him of paradoxes and the warmth of the summer sun.

“How d’you think it went?” Jaemin asks once they’re walking home. It’s dark out, and the winter air bites at any exposed skin.

Jeno shoves his hands into his coat pockets, shivering in lieu of a reply.

“The movie was nice,” he mumbles. Granted, he’s never seen the first two _How to Train Your Dragon_ movies—neither has Jaemin, from the sounds of it—but nothing else in the theater seemed remotely interesting.

“Not the movie,” Jaemin says. “I meant the date.” He stops. “Shit, you must be freezing.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Jeno says.

Jaemin hands over his gloves. “Just take them,” he insists.

“Thanks,” Jeno says. Jaemin watches him carefully as he puts the gloves on. They’re still warm from Jaemin’s hands.

“Maybe I should get you gloves,” Jaemin muses. “For Valentine’s Day.”

“Valentine’s Day _is_ today,” Jeno points out. He can feel the blood rush to his cheeks as he says that, and he adjusts his hood so that it covers a good portion of his face.

“Shit,” Jaemin swears under his breath. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s the fourteenth.” Jeno squints at him, confused. “Didn’t you wish Jaehyun happy birthday on Facebook?”

“Yeah, but—” Jaemin sighs, frustrated. “I wanted to give you a present.”

“Don’t bother,” Jeno says. He keeps thinking back to the movie theater, when the two of them had smiled at each other mid-laugh. The way Jaemin had looked in that moment, so unhindered in his happiness. “We aren’t really dating anyway,” Jeno adds.

He isn’t sure who he’s trying to remind of that fact.

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

 **To: Maybe Donghyuck, Maybe Renjun, Jaemin !!**  
[attachment]  
Movie date for Valentines Day

 **From: Maybe Renjun**  
thank u for flexing ur r/s on us n__n  
damn ma it be like that

 **From: Maybe Donghyuck**  
Maybe Love Is Real

 **To: Maybe Donghyuck, Maybe Renjun, Jaemin !!**  
^__^

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

"Hey," Jaemin whispers. They're at the library again. It's that stretch of time between midterms and the beginning of the semester when classes start to amp up their course-load, and the amount of problem sets Jeno has to complete steadily grows daily.

"Hey?" Jeno replies. Jaemin's carrying two cups of Dunkin Donuts, one of his usual order—6 shots of espresso and straight hell—and the other a simpler latte. Probably a green tea latte, knowing Jaemin, because:

"Is this for me?" Jeno asks.

Jaemin rolls his eyes. "No, it's for Donghyuck," he says. Donghyuck is a well-known coffee-hating, boba-drinking fanatic. Too bad that boba shops are far few and in-between in the northeast, and Donghyuck's Bay-Area-cultured taste buds are too used to actual quality milk tea.

("This is probably the best boba in New England," Jeno had said when they went to the Gongcha in Chinatown together.

Donghyuck had wrinkled his nose, took a sip of his drink, and sighed. "Given the other boba I've had here so far," he replied, "I'm not very surprised. _Disappointed_? Yes, extremely, but not surprised.")

“You didn’t have to,” Jeno says. Something about the way Jaemin smiles as he hands over the latte reminds him of the way the melted water had glittered on the Chinatown streets, pretty in the hidden darkness.

“Isn’t this what a good boyfriend should do?” Jaemin asks. He leans forward, staring at Jeno’s—well, not his eyes, that’s for sure. Jeno resists the urge to lick his lips, resists the urge to check if Jaemin will follow the movement with his stare. He’s seen Jaemin do this to other people, is the thing—seen him flirt, laugh along, and end up spending a fun night or two with someone else.

It never really amounts to much, but Jeno has always wanted to play along.

Jeno shrugs. “Sure, I guess,” he says, mouth dry all of a sudden.

The way Jaemin _beams_ at him upon hearing his response makes him wonder if this could be something more.

 

ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ  

 

The only thing that really brings Jeno back to reality, at this point, is the fact that they still have to trek over to the HASS building to answer psychological questions every two weeks. There’s something about the bold **ROMANTIC COUPLES STUDY** sign that seems to remind Jeno that, no, he and Jaemin are neither A) romantic or B) a couple. The only accurate part of the title seems to be that Jeno  _studies_.

Thankfully, the two of them are always led into separate rooms before going through rounds of word association—Jeno’s not sure what the project is supposed to be determining the effects of, to be quite honest; it’s a blind study for a reason, right?—and answering interview questions.

“How was it?” Jaemin asks, slightly loud with his headphones in. He stops leaning against the wall, walking up to Jeno to grasp his hand and hold it to his cheek.

Jeno savors it for the smallest second before pushing Jaemin’s touch away, rubbing at his eyes instead.

“‘M tired,” he says. There’s something about being tested for two hours straight—and the thought that the questions somehow correlate with dating Jaemin, though he isn’t sure _how_ —that causes a headache if he thinks too hard about it.

Honestly, Jeno’s never been interested in humanities. He prefers numbers and abstraction, the sort of creativity that comes from the proof of Monsky’s theorem—combinatorics and algebra to solve a _geometry problem_ —as opposed to the Great Classics or whatever _that’s_ about.

Jaemin throws an arm around his shoulder, tugging him closer so that his shoulder rests under Jaemin’s hand.

“It’s tiring, isn’t it?” Jaemin says, rubbing Jeno’s shoulder. It’s soothing, the sort of touch Jeno thought he’d have to forsake once he left home for college.

“Yeah,” Jeno replies, ignoring the way his heart threatens to rattle out of his chest. It’s too difficult to try to resist his instincts. So he succumbs, instead, to Jaemin’s smile and open arms, and lets himself be held.

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

Soon enough, the news of Jeno’s pseudo-relationship spreads far past his immediate friend circle, or even his friends of friends. One day, when he’s in the middle of tutoring a freshman—see re: Jeno’s money problems—said freshman squints at him, mutters something unintelligible under his breath, then asks, in a voice loud enough for everyone in the library to hear, “Wait, are you Jaemin’s _boyfriend_?”

Jeno startles, pen skidding across the paper. “Uh, what?” he asks. He’s only been tutoring Chenle for a month, but he’d swear that they have no other connections. His mind races to connect the dots: maybe Chenle shares one of his humanities classes with Donghyuck, or maybe he’s a part of the CSC with Renjun or Yangyang, or—

“Jaemin Na?” Chenle asks. “Ah, sorry, it’s just that—” he shakes his head. “He’s like, my best friend’s big in ZBT? Everyone knows Jaemin’s dating someone, but—” he cuts himself off again, giving Jeno a wary once-over. “Are you dating him?”

Jeno hesitates for far too long for it to seem natural. “Yes?” he replies, defensive. He almost believes himself, when he says it.

Jeno can’t help it; there’s something about the slant of Chenle’s tone, just a shade skeptical, that puts him on edge.

After that, Jeno manages to divert the topic back to Chenle’s Linear Algebra problem set, but his mind is buzzing with questions all the while. If Jisung Park knows, then probably all of ZBT knows. And that— _that_ doesn’t bode well.

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

“So,” Jeno begins, over dinner, “Does everyone in ZBT know? About us, I mean.”

Jaemin drops his chopsticks, one of them landing in the center of his pad thai. “Funny thing, I was just gonna tell you,” he says, smiling with an uneasy edge to it. “How’d you find out?”

Jeno shrugs. “I tutor Jisung Park’s friend or something.”

“Oh, Chenle?” Jaemin smiles, delighted. “He’s premed. That must be _fun_.”

“Figures,” Jeno grumbles. He takes a bite of his takeout, savoring the MSG-filled bite. “He hates LinAlg with a passion.”

Jaemin hums in lieu of a reply, taking his time to stir the noodles. Jeno watches him, takes in the way Jaemin’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek when he looks down and tries to quell the unexpected affection that always blooms in his chest when he’s with Jaemin for too long.

Jaemin finally looks up again, meeting Jeno’s eyes. Usually, he would immediately call Jeno out for staring— _Wow, am I really that handsome, how flattering—_ but this time, he simply averts his gaze.

“Okay, so—now that they all know I have a boyfriend and all,” Jaemin begins, “You’ll probably have to come to the ZBT spring formal with me?”

Jeno tilts his head, thinking. Is this why Jaemin was so nervous? Granted, he’s never been the biggest fan of fraternities—not since Jaemin routinely gets drunk and fucks someone at each frat party he attends—but ZBT is one of the better fraternities on campus.

“Okay,” Jeno says slowly. “It’ll be fine, I think?”

Sure, the idea of a formal sounds like all of the high school prom memories Jeno has long since suppressed—Jeno had accidentally asked a girl who happened to be in love with another girl on the math team, of course, because that’s just his luck—but he’s willing to do a lot for Jaemin Na. Hopefully, it isn’t as big of a dumpster fire as the senior year of high school was.

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

“You’re going to the _formal_?” Renjun asks. “Who are you, and what have you done to Jeno Lee?” He’s lifting weights as Jeno attempts to outrun his problems on the treadmill, a combination that results in Renjun interrogating him while Jeno pants out answers.

“Isn’t it—normal?” Jeno gasps. His treadmill shakes with the impact of his feet hitting the surface.

“What happened to your hate for parties and formals and—” Renjun breaks off, rolling his eyes. “Oh, of course. Jaemin happened, right?”

“Jaemin’s—kind of—” Jeno breaks off, focusing on breathing for a couple of seconds before continuing, “part of why I don’t like parties in the first place.”

“Because you’d get jealous.” Renjun raises his eyebrows. “Come on, don’t give me that look, you know it’s true.”

“I’m not jealous—I wasn’t,” Jeno corrects hastily, “it’s just something I—don’t like.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Yeah, go off,” he says. “Have fun with the ZBT guys, I guess. They’re pretty nice, to be honest.”

“I hope so,” Jeno says.

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

The formal doesn’t end up being too boring, as far as on-campus events go. Jeno’s had to endure far worse in the name of free food, and the dinner served courtesy of ZBT is fancy, delicious, and completely paid for by ZBT’s exorbitant membership fee. Jaemin disappears, presumably to say hello to—and make fun of—Jisung Park and his date.

This leaves Jeno scrambling to look for people he knows. He finally finds Yerim Kim and Yuqi Song, the two of them sitting together at a table with several plates hastily abandoned.

“Hey, Jeno,” Yerim greets, patting the seat in between her and Yuqi. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Jeno winces. Last semester, Yerim had asked him to the Theta formal as friends. In the throes of exam-related stress, Jeno had blurted out something about disliking fraternities and sororities as social institutions and quickly walked away.

“Yeah, well, having a boyfriend changes things,” Jeno replies weakly. “Um, so you guys are here with…?”

“Mark,” Yerim says. Of course.

“Lucas,” Yuqi adds. She stares down at her nails, uninterested.

“As friends?” Jeno asks.

“Of _course_ ,” Yerim replies, sounding offended. Jeno pats her shoulder.

“Unfortunately.” Yuqi sighs. She’s going through her Instagram feed, now; Jeno watches with fascination as she scrolls and double-taps with ease while nursing a drink with her other hand.

“ _Ladies_ ,” Jaemin says, eyebrows raised, sliding into the seat next to Yuqi.

“Jaemin,” Yuqi and Yerim chorus back, deadpan.

“How’s Jeno treating you guys?” Jaemin asks. He’s looking at where Jeno’s hand rests on Yerim’s bare shoulder.

Yerim shrugs, and Jeno’s hand slides off with it. “Fine?”

“Also, where are your dates?” Jaemin continues. “Lucas and Mark, right?”

“Beats me,” Yerim replies.

They’re all silent for a moment, a sort of collective shrug of apathy. Jaemin clears his throat to break the quiet.

“Uh, so, Jeno,” he says, reaching over to grasp Jeno’s hand, “we need to go take pictures with the photographer.”

Jeno gets up, complying with Jaemin’s wishes.

“Do we need to take _pictures_?” Jeno whispers once they’re sufficiently far away from Yerim and Yuqi.

Jaemin pouts. “It’s part of the expenses, so there’s no point in _not_ taking any, you know?” he says. “Don’t you want to cherish your memories with me?”

Jeno rolls his eyes. “Ugh, fine.”

Soon enough, he finds himself half-grimacing, half-smiling for the camera, blank backdrop behind them, as Jaemin throws an arm over his shoulder and tugs him close, close, closer.

“What are you doing?” Jeno says between photos. “You’re so close—”

Jaemin leans even closer if it’s possible. “Why wouldn’t I be close to my _boyfriend_?” he says, smirking.

“Because,” Jeno says, failing for words. He meets Jaemin’s eyes; there’s something glimmering within, unknown and magnetic, that seems to have control over his thudding heartbeat.

“Because—”

“Okay, time for the next person,” the photographer announces. As soon as they step away from the blinding white backdrop and flash of the photographer’s DSLR, something seems to come back to Jeno. It’s like when Jeno had to beat a pinata blind during Jaemin’s fourteenth birthday, and he missed every swing, yet as soon as he took his blindfold off everything seemed so clear. Dark and vibrant and technicolor with life, with reality.

“Because,” Jeno continues, voice colored by certainty, “there’s no need for you to act like—that when we’re just,” he whispers the last word, “pretending.”

They step outside, now. Jaemin keeps his gaze trained on the icy curb and salt-dusted sidewalks as they trudge back to the dorms.

“Ah, yes,” Jaemin replies, far too long after for it to feel natural. “How could I forget that this is fake?”

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

“So how was the ZBT formal?” is the first thing Heejin asks upon seeing him at the library.

Jeno winces. During his allotted Facebook time, he had gotten approximately 10 love reacts from Heejin on all the damn photos posted from the formal. In half of them, he doesn’t even look at the camera, too focused on staring at Jaemin’s face. It’s—revealing, and mildly embarrassing to boot. Thank _fuck_ he isn’t Facebook friends with his parents (Or Jaemin’s parents. Nope, he’s been ignoring _that_ friend request since freshman year of high school).

“It was fine,” Jeno replies, dropping his backpack onto the table and sitting beside her. “What’re you working on?”

“An essay,” Heejin says absently, pointing to her laptop screen. “It’s, well. It isn’t the _worst_ thing I’ve written, at least.”

Jeno leans over to take a look. Two sentences into _Although women endeavor to increase their autonomy, their communities often obstruct these efforts…_ is enough for him. Call him weak, or whatever, but he has a strong preference for novels written _after_ the nineteenth century. Heejin’s taking a whole class on the stuff; it’s unthinkable.

“That’s the spirit,” he comments, startling when his phone buzzes. Jeno only has the notifications on for three people. He lets out a sigh of relief when he realizes who it is.

 **From: Jaemin !!**  
where are you n___n cant find u on 1st floor?

“But seriously,” Heejin says. Jeno looks up from the screen, and her eyes are glittering in that infectious way that makes him want to share in her joy. “You and Jaemin are so _cute_.”

“Thanks?” Jeno says, quickly typing out a response to Jaemin’s text. “I guess.”

 **To: Jaemin !!**  
Im at 2nd floor back corner

“I feel like you’ve liked him for so long,” Heejin says, resting a hand on Jeno’s shoulder. “It’s really nice that you two are together.”

Jeno opens his mouth to protest, because, hey, he doesn’t even rant _that_ much about his stupid crush compared to the number of times Heejin has called him up about Hyunjin, but—

“Jeno!” Jaemin says. He takes the seat opposite Jeno, but his eyes are on Heejin the entire time. Heejin stares back with unabashed curiosity. “Who’s _this_?”

Jeno blinks. “You’ve seriously never met Heejin before?” he asks, skeptical, before remembering that Heejin’s dating _Hyunjin_. Jeno hadn’t really wanted to bring up that can of worms in the past.

“Yeah,” Jaemin says. He smiles at Hyunjin, all bright white teeth, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “I wish I had, though.”

“Jaemin, right?” Heejin says. She clasps her hands together, excited. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

Jaemin looks over at Jeno for a moment, startled. “I wish I could say the same,” he replies smoothly, eyes returning to Heejin. “What major?”

“Materials Science,” Heejin replies, tilting her head. “With a minor in CS.”

“Oh, MatSci?” Jaemin asks, and it’s the first time that he sounds at least somewhat genuine. He’s still smiling coldly. It’s the same way he faces librarians, bad professors, and other people he dislikes. “Do tell me more.”

Jeno keeps an earbud in, working at half-speed while paying attention to their conversation. It’s mostly about their majors, but every now and then Jaemin will say something a little pointed that gets under his skin.

Once Heejin leaves, Jeno takes his earbuds out.

“What the hell was that about?” he asks.

“What was _what_ about?” Jaemin replies. He stretches back in his chair lazily, apparently unconcerned, but there’s a clench to his jaw that isn’t normally there.

“You—you were—” Jeno breaks off, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t met her before, though,” he adds, frowning. “She’s Hyunjin’s girlfriend.”

“Wait, what?” Jaemin sits back upright, shock evident across his features. “Oh, okay.” Just like that, the tension seems to dissipate from him like letting air from a balloon.

“And I don’t really talk to Hyunjin,” Jaemin continues. “So…”

“Yeah, yeah, well,” Jeno says. “You didn’t have to give her the full-on Jaemin Na Treatment.” He punctuates this with a roll of his eyes. Jaemin grins back at him, sheepish. It stirs something in him, a bit of hope— _does he still like me?—_ that he should quell.

“What can I say?” Jaemin replies, shrugging. “It’s—I’m an experience.”

“You could say _that_ much.”

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

Jeno doesn’t think much of their (fake) relationship for the weeks leading up to spring break. He’s got midterms to prepare for, damn it. Aside from his gym trips with Renjun, he spends most of his time studying or trying to get Jaemin to study, depending on whether they’re at the library or not.

“Come _on_ ,” Jaemin says, poking at Jeno’s cheek.

Jeno looks up from his problem set. “What?” he asks, pen still moving all the while.

“It’s late,” Jaemin replies. He gestures towards the windows, which betray the dark sky. It had been just after lunch when they entered the library. “Maybe you should take a break.”

Jeno stretches his arms out, all of the sudden feeling extremely disoriented. It takes him a moment before he places the feeling—ah, he’s hungry. His stomach rumbles loudly as if to emphasize his point.

Jeno looks over at Jaemin.

“What?” Jaemin asks. “Why are you looking at me like _that_ —”

“Make me dinner?” Jeno asks, hoping that his pout will win him over. “Dining hall closed already, didn’t it?”

Jaemin checks the time on his phone. “Yeah, it did.” He sighs loudly, but a smile plays on the edges of his lips. “I can’t tell if you genuinely missed it or if you just wanted to have me cook for you—”

“Is that even a question?” Jeno interrupts, leaning closer. As soon as he makes eye contact with Jaemin, he knows that he’ll get what he wants. “I’ll take your cooking over dining hall stir fry any day.”

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

"How was the Elliptic Curves mid—" 

As soon as Jeno storms in, dropping his backpack on the floor and chucking his coat on top of it, Jaemin breaks off. It's obvious how the midterm went for Jeno. 

Jeno closes his eyes, tries to breathe in and out. It hadn't been that bad—except that it _had_ been. He hasn't failed a test this bad since freshman year, and freshman year, first semester was graded on a pass/no record basis. His breathing starts to get shaky, all stupid and crazy, and—

"Hey, hey," Jaemin says, pulling Jeno into his arms. He rubs circles into Jeno's back, his touch warm and comforting. "It's okay, okay?"

Jeno shakes his head, face pressed against the hot skin of Jaemin's neck. When he breathes, he can smell that scent that's distinctly  _Jaemin_ :laundry detergent and eucalyptus soap and something sweet underneath. 

"I'm serious," Jaemin insists. "Was it hard?"

"Yeah." Jeno shakes his head again. "But it wasn't just that. I—I don't know, I just blanked."

"It'll get curved," Jaemin replies. He hums, and Jeno can feel it vibrate against his cheek. "If it was hard for _you_ , then it was hard for everyone." His tone leaves no space for any argument or protest, so certain in his faith for Jeno. It's easy for Jaemin to be sure of himself; this is the same guy who achieved the highest score on the Algorithms exam with barely any studying the night before. 

"Maybe," Jeno mumbles. All of a sudden he realizes he's been hugging Jaemin for a long time. Probably too long, if he thinks about it for more than a couple of seconds. He breaks away.

Jaemin grabs onto Jeno's wrists, stopping him. "Wait," Jaemin says, then slides his hands down so that his fingers intertwine with Jeno's. 

"What?" They're mere inches from each other, so close that they're breathing the same air. Jaemin's eyes drop to his lips, then slide away, past him, into the distance. 

"I—" Jaemin shakes his head, stepping back and letting go of Jeno's hands. "There's a party tomorrow and ZBT's going to host. You should come."

"Seriously?" Jeno asks. "Jaemin, you know I don't—"

"It'll take your mind off of everything," Jaemin says. "Please?" 

Jeno takes one look at Jaemin's pout, so cute and insidious in its power, and sighs. "Sure," he says.  _It'll take your mind off of everything._ Well, Jeno can only hope as much. 

 

ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ  

 

"Jeno, are you ready?" Jaemin calls from outside the door. "Jisung's expecting me in, like, fifteen—"

"Okay, I'm coming!" Jeno responds. He widens his eyes at himself in the mirror. He looks the same, mostly—the operative word here being _mostly_. He went shopping with Heejin a couple of months back, and she urged him to buy this tight-fitting black turtleneck. Jeno will admit it: he looks good, attractive in a way he usually doesn't have time for, and with his contacts in he feels  _different_. It's intoxicating. 

Jaemin's eyes widen as soon as Jeno steps out of his room. 

"What is it?" Jeno asks, tilting his head. He knows very well what's up. 

"Nothing," Jaemin says hurriedly, turning away from Jeno to walk towards the door. "We should—go—"

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

"There, I found you!" Jaemin says, grabbing at Jeno's wrist. He pouts. "I was looking for you."

Jeno regards him for a moment, taking in his pink cheeks and bright smile. Jaemin's tipsy, but not drunk; Jeno is well-versed in both versions of Jaemin. Has been ever since high school. There are some things Jeno's afraid will never change, and other things he wants to stay the same. Two warring feelings when he looks at Jaemin, neither making any goddamn _sense_.

"Where'd you _goo_?" Jaemin asks, poking Jeno's cheek.

Jeno shrugs. "Just around, I guess." He found Mark and talked to him for a while, then floated through the crowd idly. He saw Jaemin a couple times, too, always surrounded by a crowd of people, always laughing. It was hard to quell the jealousy taking root in his chest.

Frat parties, in Jeno's opinion, are all kind of the same. It's a whole lot of loud music and shitty alcohol, and he isn't interested in either of those things.

"Do you wanna go home?" All of a sudden, Jaemin's gaze feels too serious, too intense.

Jeno looks away. "Yeah, I kind of want to leave," he admits.

Jaemin shrugs. "Then we'll go," he says simply.

When they step out into the cold, the difference in temperature from the hot, humid party actually makes Jeno enjoy the feeling. He's used to this, the feeling of walking back from parties cold and tired, either dragging Jaemin with him or wondering who Jaemin's spending the night with. He doesn't like parties for a reason.

"Are you disappointed?" Jeno asks, swallowing dryly. "That—you couldn't hook up with anyone?"

Jaemin stops in his tracks. "What?" he says, eyebrows raised. "What do you _mean_?"

"Hooking up?" Jeno asks, trying his best to not sound bitter. By the look in Jaemin's eyes, he's failed miserably. "You do it basically every party, ever since—" he breaks off.

"Ever since when?" Jaemin replies, stepping forward until Jeno can smell the alcohol on his breath. "Ever since _when_ , Jeno?"

"Come on," Jaemin continues, condescending. "Use your brain. You're smart. Connect the fucking dots."

"I—I—" Jeno can't even form a sentence. Jaemin's eyes shine in the darkness. “ _This_ is why people think you’d be a shitty boyfriend,” he blurts out. As soon as he says it, mouth bitter with the taste of lying, he knows that he’s made a mistake. 

Jaemin's face, framed by the shadows, only seems to darken further. "Me? What the fuck?” Jaemin tsks under his breath, eyes narrowing. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me?"

Jeno can’t bring himself to reply, blood in his veins thrumming with this guilty sort of fear. He doesn't know what path he's supposed to take; this is something that studying and tests and Pomodoros never helped him with. Maybe that's what separates the two of them—his inability to trust instinct over facts, heart over mind. 

“I can't tell what you fucking want from me," Jaemin says, finally. He says it simple and plain, without any veneer of conceit. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the cold starting to cut in, but at least Jaemin's saying _something_ genuine.

"I could say the same to you!" Jeno replies, hands clenching into fists. “You keep sending me mixed signals—”

”Me? _Me_?  _I'm_ the one sending mixed signals?” Jaemin laughs, caustic and bitter. It burns against Jeno's ears. “What about you?” He pauses, waiting for Jeno’s response. When it doesn’t come, he shakes his head. "Are we best friends? Boyfriends? You can't have it both ways, Jeno." Without waiting for an answer, Jaemin turns his back and begins to walk away.

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

It was the junior year of high school when Jeno decided to go to his first party. It wasn’t much of a decision, really; Jaemin had looked at him, wide-eyed, saying something about _stress-relief_ and _experiencing things like normal teenagers, Jeno_ , and Jeno had agreed warily.

As Jeno expected, Chan Lee’s pre-February break “party” wasn’t all that exciting. Jaemin tasted the alcohol, decided it was shit, and then proceeded to drink two cups of it; Jeno watched him with a horrified sort of fascination that a herpetologist might observe cannibalistic turtles.

None of that was all that memorable, really. Here’s the important part:

”Come on, let’s go home,” Jeno said, dragging Jaemin out through the door. It took a good amount of strength, and Jeno was fucking _tired_ , and to top all that off he had a curfew to reach home by.

Jaemin hummed, eventually becoming pliant in Jeno’s grip as they stepped outside.

”You didn’t like the party, did you?” Jaemin asked. He kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk, and the two of them watched silently as it skittered across the cracks. 

Jeno sighed. “No,” he said. “No, I really didn’t.”

”Then why didn’t you leave?” Jaemin asked. He was holding Jeno’s hand loosely, before, but now he tightened his grip. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

Jeno didn’t respond. He knew that Jaemin was no stranger to these types of parties, that for every A+ he got on a test, he partied and broke rules in equal measure. It must have been weird to be Jaemin Na, Jeno had decided. Jeno just worked as hard as he could at anything possible; Jaemin was ruthlessly efficient and easily distracted in equal measures, a paradox in a person.

”You must really like me, then,” Jaemin decided.

Jeno stopped in his tracks. “What?” he asked.

”You must _liiike_ me,” Jaemin repeated. He stepped closer so that the toes of their sneakers were touching. “Don’t you?”

Jeno swallowed. Jaemin’s eyes glinted strangely with the lack of artificial light. Jeno thought back to their AP Chem test, last week, when Jaemin had gotten an A+ and Jeno a 94. He thought back to his counselor, telling him that it would be better to apply early decision to an easier school rather than try to apply to a top-five college.

If Jeno was ceaselessly striving towards a goal that he couldn’t meet, then Jaemin was his asymptote: everything he could not reach.

Looking back, it’s hard to find a reason for what he had said at the moment. It’s always difficult to justify fear and irrationality.

Jeno swallowed and said something he would rethink over and over for the next two years. It was odd: during those seconds he could see two futures superimposed upon his vision. He could say _ah, yes, I do_ , and then for what? For Jaemin to distract him from school? To leave him behind when he attended a better college? It was like wearing a new pair of glasses; suddenly everything had become horrendously clear.

”No, Jaemin,” Jeno said, letting go of Jaemin’s hands. “I don’t like you like _that_ , dumbass.”

 

ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

Jaemin isn't in his bed when Jeno wakes up in the morning. There's nothing there save for his usual debris, except for one glaring issue: Jaemin's laptop is gone. Jeno can't help but feel a little shiver—did Jaemin come back and _leave_ already? Spring break starts today, but usually, they laze the morning away, eat brunch at Flour, and then take the afternoon train back home together.

Jeno immediately turns on his phone, scrolling through his notifications. 

 **From: Maybe Renjun**  
wtf did u do  
hes CRYING you fuck

Renjun had sent these messages at 2 am last night. Jeno breathes a sigh of relief, scrolling through them; at least Jaemin is—was—safe at Renjun and Donghyuck's apartment. Jeno fumbles at the screen, quickly typing out a reply to Renjun. 

 **To: Maybe Renjun**  
Where is he?? 

The reply comes almost instantaneously. 

 **From: Maybe Renjun**  
what happened btwn u two?  
he already took the train home

Jeno closes his eyes. Should he be surprised? He recalls the blurry edges of last night, the way his mouth had turned bitter over the words  _you'd be a shitty boyfriend_. Jaemin had shown him his weak spots, his softness, and like a piece of  _shit_ , Jeno had dug his fingers deep into where he knew it would hurt.

It reminds him of being sixteen and barely sure of what his future would be. It reminds him of all the ways in which Jaemin is different from him. It aches within him, as hollow as his now-empty apartment.

 

ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ

 

On the first day of spring break, Jeno's mom drags him out to the doctor's and the optometrist's, and he spends the rest of the day intermittently sending texts to Jaemin and refreshing his grade for Elliptic Curves. On the second day of spring break, he receives the grade for the Elliptic Curves midterm. Jaemin had been right: his 40% got curved up to an A. 

He tries to FaceTime Renjun, but there's no response. It's only in the middle of the third ring that Jeno remembers that Renjun had decided to travel to Peru with Donghyuck over spring break. They're off wifi, no doubt having just landed in Lima. Renjun asked him to come, but, well—he and Jaemin had decided to return home instead. 

("Do you want to come along with us?" Renjun asked, mousing over the different ticket prices. He showed the screen to Jeno. "Come on, it isn't _that_ expensive to fly to Lima."

"Who's going?" Jeno replied, biting his lip as he considered it. The ticket prices  _weren't_ that bad, and he had never been to South America before. 

"Um..." Renjun shrugged. "Probably just me and Donghyuck?"

"What about Jaemin?" Jeno asked. 

Renjun rolled his eyes. "I should've known you'd ask that," he replied. "Jaemin asked the same thing about you when I invited him.")

On the third day of spring break, Jeno gets tired of playing video games and sleeping for twelve hours straight. He caves, calling up Doyoung for advice.

"Why're you calling me, Jeno? Is there something going on with your parents?" Doyoung asks, already worried. 

Jeno closes his eyes, letting Doyoung's voice blanket himself. Doyoung is the same person who proofread his Common App essay twenty times, who told Jeno which clubs and classes to partake in, who cared and continues to care for Jeno in this persistent, furious way. It's what he needs right now, with Jaemin's silence feeling more and more like an impenetrable wall.

Jeno never texts, never even bothers to use his phone, but his conversation history with Jaemin looks like this:

 **To: Jaemin !!**  
Jaemin, Im really sorry. Can we talk  
Jaemin please can we talk?? I want to apologize  
Jaemin  
Jaeminnnnnn

There was no reply except for a terse response this morning: _i dont wanna talk rn,_ Jaemin had sent. And that— _that—_ had hurt more than anything else.

"No," Jeno replies, finally, letting out a small laugh. "It's nothing to do with my mom, it's just—" he sighs. "How do you know whether it's a good idea to tell someone how you feel?"

Doyoung remains silent for a couple of moments, background noises crackling through the line.

"Is this about saying _I love you_ or something?" Doyoung asks.

"Um," Jeno says, realizing that this is the only way he can plausibly ask for advice, "yeah? I'm not sure whether to... confess how I feel." That much is the truth.

"Well," Doyoung says, "It's always good to wait for a little, just in case you regret it." He sighs. "It's hard, isn't it?"

"What's hard?" Jeno replies.

"It's hard to tell someone how you feel." Doyoung sighs again. "Honestly, my advice to you would be to do whatever feels right."

"What if I don't _know_ what feels right?" Jeno replies.

"Then..." Doyoung pauses for a moment. "Then you wouldn't be calling me up, asking for advice, would you?"

 

ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ

 

Jeno returns from home two days earlier due to another session at the HASS building. Somehow, almost serendipitously, it is then when Jeno sees Jaemin for the first time in seven days.

Okay, no—Jeno's a math major, he knows that this stuff isn't coincidences and movie magic. He knows that he and Jaemin always have the same appointment for the **ROMANTIC COUPLES STUDY** , that their degrees of separation are severely limited. But, sometimes, it's nice to think of it as some sort of miracle too. It certainly feels like one.

"Jaemin!" Jeno says, spotting him as soon as he steps out of the study's room.

Jaemin's turning the handle of the door, poised to leave. Seeing him is like stepping outside into the sun after three hours in a dark movie theater; it leaves Jeno breathless and bright-eyed. Even Jaemin's douchey-looking quarter-zip seems handsome and _charming_ , in this moment.

"Hey," Jaemin says, turning towards him and waiting patiently as Jeno rushes to catch up. In some ways, it seems like a metaphor for his life thus far.

Even if Jeno always strived for Jaemin, asymptotic, Jaemin would always wait for him.

It reminds Jeno of those stupid limits he had to graph during Precalculus, the way the function would cross over the horizontal asymptote—touch the line that couldn't be touched—and then slope back towards it as if attracted by a magnet.

This is it. This is him and Jaemin, intersecting. 

"Jaemin, we need to talk," Jeno says.

Jaemin snorts. "I've gathered."

"I'm serious," Jeno insists. He takes hold of Jaemin's hand, the one that isn't grabbing onto the doorknob. "Jaemin Na, I need to tell you something."

"Did you decide?" Jaemin asks, wresting his hand from Jeno's grip. "Because that's why I didn't want to meet during break, okay, I needed to prepare myself for—"

"For what?" Jeno interrupts. "Rejection?"

Jaemin stares at him, sullen. "What the hell _else_ would it be, Jeno? I'm prepared for it, at least."

 _It's hard, isn't it?_ Doyoung had said. _To tell someone how you feel_. But Jeno has been taking the easy way out, the shortcut, for the past three years.

"I'm sorry," Jeno says.

Whatever remaining hope had been in Jaemin's facial expression instantly dissipates. His face freezes, an automaton of heartbreak; he turns away again, ready to leave.

"Wait, Jaemin—" Jeno says. "Hear me _out_ , dumbass, I'm trying—"

"What's the point if I'm just going to hear you reject me again—"

"I'm trying to _confess_!" Jeno finally manages to get out.

Jaemin instantly flushes, cheeks turning pink. "Oh?" he says, blinking with surprise. He clears his throat. "Well, go on then."

Jeno rolls his eyes. "I'm sorry," he repeats, "for saying you'd be a shit boyfriend."

"Well," Jaemin shrugs, expression carefully neutral in a way that shows he's upset, "it's not exactly wrong, though."

"It _is_ wrong," Jeno stresses. He steps forward and clasps Jaemin's shoulder. "Jaemin."

"What?" Jaemin replies.

"Jaemin," Jeno repeats, leaning in close. "I like you so much."

Jaemin shakes his head.

"I do," Jeno insists. He can see, from the barely concealed trembling to the clenched fists, that Jaemin is still disbelieving.

Jeno takes another step forward and hugs Jaemin as hard as he possibly can. Jaemin tucks his face into the crook of Jeno's neck, shaking.

"Are you crying?" Jeno asks, rubbing circles into Jaemin's back.

"No," Jaemin says. "It's just—it's just that—" he sighs, looking up. "It's weird when you thought something was never going to happen and then it _happens_ , you know?"

"Oh," Jeno says. He reaches out, smoothing his thumb over Jaemin's eyebrow. "But we're here, now, aren't we?"

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

  

"So..." Donghyuck says, furrowing his eyebrows. He takes a bite of his stir-fry. "What you're telling me is that you faked dating _just for the money_ —"

"Shh," Jeno interrupts. He can feel the warmth of Jaemin's legs against his, and he presses into it for a small second. "Do you want us to get kicked out of the study? Believe it or not, we actually do want the thousand dollars—"

"Just for the money," Donghyuck repeats, "and you're dating for real _now_? How am I supposed to believe that?"

"Because that's what happened, Hyuck," Jaemin says, rolling his eyes. He reaches underneath the table, palm warm on Jeno's knee.

"Are we even best friends?" Donghyuck wonders, hand upon his heart as he stares melodramatically at the ceiling. "Honestly, in times like these—"

"Come on," Jeno interrupts. "We told you because we trust you, okay? We aren't fucking around right now, I swear."

Donghyuck hesitates, considering. "Can I tell Renjun?" Renjun's still visiting his parents in Lexington; he's going drive back tonight, apparently.

"And yeah," Jeno adds. "I was planning to text him about it, but you're probably faster."

"When did you guys get together, then?" Donghyuck asks, leaning forward. "Two weeks ago? Over spring break?" 

"Yesterday, actually," Jaemin replies. He looks over at Jeno, grinning. They're still caught up in the giddy-happiness of it all, the fact that everything's reciprocated. Sometimes Jeno remembers it and gets short of breath at how amazing it is.

Donghyuck immediately begins to curse underneath his breath. " _Shit_ ," he says, scowling. "This means I owe  _Mark Lee_ ten bucks."

 

 ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ 

 

"Are you going to get that?" Jeno asks, after the second time Jaemin's phone rings. He lets go of Jaemin's shoulders, sliding one hand up to cup the curve of his cheek. It's warm under his palm. "Come on, it's probably your mom or something—"

Jaemin sighs, resting his forehead against Jeno's and closing his eyes for a moment. "Okay, fine," he says, walking over to the other side of the room to where his phone is. 

"Renjun?" Jaemin answers, looking over at Jeno quizzically. "Yeah, what's up?"

Jeno shrugs back, equally as confused. He rubs his hands over his arms, feeling goosebumps rise up under his fingertips. Somehow Jaemin had managed to finagle him out of his shirt—he isn't sure how, really, especially since Jaemin has all of his _own_ clothes on—and without his warmth nearby Jeno's  _cold_.

"Oh, _that_?" Jaemin replies, smiling. He walks towards Jeno. "No, no, we're totally fine now." He switches on the speakerphone, pointing his phone at Jeno as if it's a microphone. 

"Jeno," Jaemin says sweetly, "are we fighting?"

The question feels so unexpected that it startles a laugh out of him. "What?" Jeno asks. "No, of course not."

"But last week—" Renjun starts, voice strange-sounding through the phone. He's interrupted by the loud slamming of a door.

" _Injunnie!_ " Donghyuck calls, barely audible through the phone. "You'll never guess what Jeno and Jaemin told me during lunch—"

Jaemin chooses that moment to hang up from the call, setting the phone down at his desk. "They'll figure it out," Jaemin says easily. "Right?"

"Yeah," Jeno agrees. He stretches his arms out towards Jaemin. "Come here, I'm _freezing_."

"Don't worry, baby," Jaemin says, eyes soft. He takes one of Jeno's hands and kisses the back of it, eyes sparkling. "I'll keep you warm."

Jeno laughs softly. "You're so cheesy."

"You love it—" Jaemin breaks off, eyes widening when he realizes what he said. "I mean—"

 Jeno shakes his head, still smiling. "You're right," he says carefully. "I love it."

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](http://twitter.com/mathmxrk) / [cc](http://curiouscat.me/mathmxrk) / feel free to leave concrit [here](https://markohmark.dreamwidth.org/2671.html) / [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/fullmoonjournal)
> 
> so this fic is lowkey my babie so thanks for reading it n__n!! comments & kudos are appreciated <3


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